WWPP: Wizarding Witness Protection Program
by D. D. Alias
Summary: About a poor, unsuspecting squib who is placed in Wizarding Witness Protection. T for her foul mouth and some alcohol references. Set in Toronto in a world where J. K. Rowling is actually Rita Skeeter. Feedback is always appreciated!
1. Chapter 1

**This story is set in Toronto. In Canada there is a coffee chain called Tim Hortons. I use some slang pertaining to it but it isn't important.**

A flashing light catches my eye. I turn my head but Eric's putting whatever it was away in his pocket. I suspect it's an engagement ring. We have after all been together for four years. Not all at once and not currently but what else could it be?

"What do you want to watch?" he asks.

"Anything but Harry Potter."

See, my dad was involved in this anime adaptation of Harry Potter an animation company in Toronto put on. When I say involved with I mean he was the producer. He died recently so I can't stand Harry Potter now. Or any anime or any reference to magic, BBC productions (I know they're hardly related and I'm just being racist but you get it). If it reminds me of his work? Not. Interested.

We watch a romantic comedy (if he is planning to propose I want to have the right mood). After it ends I look at him.

"Sakura… would you like to go for a walk?" he asks.

OMG this is it!

"Sure," I smile at him, as coy as possible.

We go to the liquor store of all places. I get in a pissy mood but it subsides when he says he wants to buy something for a special dinner. He goes to the wine section but I feel like champagne… we're getting married! The drink should reflect the bubbles I feel on the inside.

I suggest a drink and he goes with it. When we're walking back he hails a cab.

"Sakura, you're my best friend in this world. I'm about to do something that will forever change life as I know it…"

Yes, yes, YES!

"…Wish me luck."

He gets in the cab and disappears.

I buy shawarma. It's big and messy and full of meat and I eat the whole thing. Then I buy a ten pack of Timbits and eat all of those. While I'm at Timmy's I pick up an extra-large café mocha and head home. I burn my tongue on the coffee and throw it out.

By this time I'm home. I fake a smile for my room mate then head straight to my room. I flump down on my bed. I pull out my phone. One text and one missed call. The text is from Eric- _She said yes!_ The call is from an unknown number. I call the mailbox.

"Hi Sakura, this is David, we met at Lisa's party the other day."

Oh shit I remember him. I believe I wrote on an old receipt:

 _Cute guy from party- call me. 416-555-6336. Sakura._

I can be direct like that. The next day I was like why would I do that but I was drunk and he was cute and I didn't think anything would actually come of it.

"I was wondering if you would like to grab a coffee together. You can call me back at 647-555-9636. Hope to hear from you soon, bye."

You know what? Fuck it. I'm going on this date. I'm going to have coffee and wait for it to cool while talking to an attractive man and then I will drink my coffee and not burn my tongue and it will be a great distraction. I text back to confirm a time and place. It's tomorrow because no bloody time like the present. Also I might lose my gumption if we put it off.

When I meet David at Starbucks he has two roses, one pink one yellow. He offers me the pink rose. No freaking way real roses I'm a princess. Anyway, I get a coconut milk chai tea latte and he pays. He asks if I'd like to go for a walk.

We go to a park. I know this area very well. The gardens are gorgeous in the summer. Right now they are snow covered. He turns into the graveyard portion and I hesitate but follow.

He lays the yellow rose on a grave.

"This man was a mentor of mine. Sorry to bring you here on a first date. It's just that since I was buying flowers it would be a nice thing to do. Saves me a trip."

He flashed me a goofy smile but I scowl.

"What are you playing at?!"

Suddenly David keels over a look of intense pain on his face. I'm staring at him when ropes appear out of no where and bind me. I fall. I hear some running footsteps and someone grabs a hold of me. There's a cracking sound and the world and the light and the air seem to disappear.

A moment later everything returns to focus. Only I'm no longer at the grave. My father's grave. I'm in a warehouse. David is here too.

"What the fuck just happened?"

He's on his hands and knees panting. Eventually he looks up. He looks so tired, but I'm still mad. And tied up.

"This is fucked up Harry Potter shit and I don't want it so put me back!"

"You're a squib. Your father was a wizard. Most of the execs on the animation team were. You aren't safe, we're being hunted. They don't know you don't know. I'm sorry but you're stuck with me until this clears up."

"What are you talking about?" I start to cry.

The clicking of running high heels approaches.

"What the fuck is going on? Thompson you were not cleared to bring your charge to headquarters."

"I don't knoooooow," I sob. They ignore me and I'm honestly grateful.

"Watanabe's grave… there were some waiting. They attacked her. Just like you said. What do we do with her?"

"I wanna go hoooome."

The ropes around me disappear. I make a break for the exit.

"That's not an exit," David calls. I change my route.

"Neither is that. Or that. Sit down before you hurt-"

I don't hear the rest because I yelp in surprise. This is reasonable. I have just been swept up into the air by one ankle.

"It's too late to obliviate her."

"No! Obliviate me! I won't tell anyone anything just let me go!"

"The Segregates know what you look like now because this fool made contact during an observation mission."

For the first time since I've met him David looks sheepish. Maybe. Hard to tell from upside down. Dots are starting to form in my vision. Something changes and I fall. It's cushioned and so, so soft, but I still hate magic.

"Let's talk in my office. Thompson you're dismissed. Wu will send for you in a few hours."

She holds out her hand we apparate- _fucking_ _apparate_ \- out of the concrete building.

We appear in a cozy office. It has a green colour scheme and an enormous fireplace. Most likely for floo travel I reflect. She gestures to a green armchair across from a much larger chair on the opposite side of a sizable desk.

I remain standing. She shrugs. Bitch.

She's dressed smartly in normal business casual. I wouldn't guess she's a witch. I shiver.

"Sakura Watanabe. You are now under the care of Wizarding Witness Protection."

 **Feedback is greatly appreciated! Thank you.**


	2. Chapter 2

"Sakura Watanabe. You are now under the care of Wizarding Witness Protection."

I don't know what question to ask first. What happened at the graveyard? Who is David? Who is Bitch? And WTF wizards are real?

"My name is Sonia Lesparce I'm Superintendent of Ontario's Wizarding Witness Protection Program. You have been selected for this program based on the risk posed to you by a group we call the Segregates. Their objective is the preservation of the secrecy of wizard kind. This is an objective shared by the government but the methods vary considerably. The Segregates are considered a wizarding gang if you will and their activity is illegal. We have been tracking you since the murder of your father. Thompson- David Thompson- was charged with tracking you. In making contact he identified you to the Segregates and now you require protection. And yes, wizards are real. Any further questions?"

Murdered? He had a heart attack. But my knowledge of Harry Potter is so ingrained I don't have trouble believing a killing curse could be covered up as a simple heart attack.

"Why would they do this? My dad was television producer! He was normal… a muggle…" I reflect on what David told me. My family was supposedly magical (except me). Why would my father keep that from me?

"I can see you're upset. I will have Wu get you oriented. Good day." She turns to some paperwork.

The door magically opens and a young man stands there. Or maybe he opened it manually. Whatever. He's dressed in muggle attire too. So was David. It occurs to me that Canadian wizard culture might be more of a learning experience than anticipated. Not that I ever thought about it before today.

"Hi, I'm Joon. I'm here to help you get settled! Follow me and I'll show you to The Nest." Thankfully we're walking not apparating. I'm with Harry, apparition sucks. We leave the building to an unfamiliar area of Toronto that looks a bit like Queen's Park (where I was planning on working) or U of T (my school). Old buildings, big lawns.

We enter a neighbouring building. It's gorgeous, a big manor built around an inner courtyard. The interior looks like a fancy hotel or an old age home. I'm shown to a room on the fifth (and top) floor. It's furnished and three times the size of my apartment! I get my own washroom, a queen-sized bed, a living room and a kitchen. The living room has a lounge area and a desk so I'll be able to study. There's bookshelves everywhere which is suiting because I have a ton of books. I just had to keep them in boxes under my bed before but now they will be displayed in all their glory! It's a distraction from the idea that someone made my dad dead on purpose.

"Your things will arrive-" _crack_. Boxes fill the space. I see dishes, books, clothing, linens and all my other stuff. Guess I'm never seeing my old place again. Joon laughs.

"Well, here it is! Look, I have the day booked entirely for you now so- oh shoot! I gotta get David to see Sonia. I'll be back in like ten minutes." He turns on his heel and disappears. I'm alone.

So. I'm a squib. My father was a wizard. He was murdered. Why? For some sort of magical political reason. His work didn't put him in any more danger than anyone else in the Harry Potter franchise- theme park workers, actors, the animation team my father oversaw. Were they all in danger? And apparently their families as well? It didn't make sense. Who could be crazy enough to take on the entire world of Harry Potter?

I make my bed and put away my clothes and shoes. By the time I'm done there's a knock on the door. I look through the peep hole. It's Joon again. I guess it's etiquette to not apparate directly into someone's home. I let him in.

"Hi, sorry about that," he says. "Would you like me to help you unpack?"

"Um, sure, the books can go in any order on the shelves." I figure that will keep him occupied, like, all day but he flicks his wand and the books make their ways to the shelves in seconds. If that's how it's going to be he's unpacking all the kitchenware too. I arrange my plants in the window and soon enough we're done. Joon vanishes the boxes.

"Let's go grocery shopping," Joon suggests.

I was expecting Food Basics. Shopping carts, checkouts. Normal, muggle grocery shopping. The Nest had its own grocery store. Most foods were the same in the organics section with the odd root vegetable I didn't recognise or something. Processed foods were in vials not microwave containers. I read some, preparation instructions include spells or "simple" potions. I of course couldn't buy any of these. Joon treated me to a mousse moose at the cash. I don't think I'll eat it. It's hilarious.

When we get back to my apartment it dawns on me that I don't have any electronics. Including a fridge. Joon enchants one cupboard to be chilled and another to be frozen. He promises to have the muggle artifacts team install this ball of light you place plugs into and acts like electricity. So I'll be able to charge my laptop. No Wi-Fi though. Joon is more educated on muggle affairs than Harry Potter led me to believe and understands hat Wi-Fi is. He points out I'm under witness protection and should be avoiding social media anyway. I guess he has a point. Being murdered would really cut my dreams short.

We make curry for dinner and sacrifice my pet mousse for dessert. Joon stays for tea before he heads out. I really enjoy our talk.

"Joon, I don't understand any of this. Who would kill my dad? He was so ordinary. Why would anyone bother? He wasn't bugging anyone."

"I can't rationalize murder, but we believe he was targeted because of his work to normalize wizarding life among muggles. Some consider the Harry Potter franchise part of a multitiered plan to expose the muggle world to magic. And that may be true but it really only started as a get rich quick scheme by a British journalist named Rita Skeeter."

I raise a sceptical eyebrow.

"Pen name J. K. Rowling," Joon finishes.

"Oh, fuck off," I giggle and shove his arm. "There's no way that's true. Why would she portray herself so negatively in her books then?"

"Don't ask me to understand that woman's mind," he turned serious. "There's been a backlash. No muggles in core or periphery nations haven't heard of Harry Potter, the poor bugger. It doesn't make sense to go after them. The wizards building the metaphorical bridge… fewer in number, more vulnerable. I don't know why you're being targeted though. No offense but you seem pretty clueless." He ruffles my hair and I try to smack his hand but hit air.

"Before I forget, here's your orientation package. There are classes and activities run to help keep you sane. You can find a schedule and map there. If you don't feel like cooking there's a cafeteria. You're smart you'll figure it out."

"I had a really nice day with you," I say.

"Me too," he smiles. "We should do this again. On a weekend though. Alright, any questions before I head?"

None come to mind.

"Perfect, I'll be off then. Good meeting you Sakura." He spins on his heel and is gone.

 **Please review!**


	3. Chapter 3

I look at the orientation package then throw it on the table. I make sure the door is locked and head to the washroom. The bathtub looks an awful lot more complicated than the one I grew up with, but simpler than say the bath in the prefects' bathroom in Hogwarts. Hogwarts might be real. I should ask someone but I feel like I'll look dumb either way. "Oh you silly muggle of course Hogwarts isn't real," or, "Oh you deprived squib, of course Hogwarts is real." I turn on all three taps. Hot water, bubbles and vanilla scented steam. I love vanilla. I undress and start to soak.

I go over the events of the past few days. It was only yesterday Eric and I didn't get engaged. I find myself not caring. If I hadn't been abducted by my magical rebound guy I'd be home on the phone with a girlfriend, talking about him and his fiancée. I wonder who she is, then remember I don't care.

Magic is real. Is Harry Potter a real person? Was there a war going on in Europe during my childhood? Why did I not have these questions while Joon was here? Joon is a real-life wizard. Holy crap I have a magic friend. And apparently a magical father. I wonder if my mother was a witch? She died before I can remember. Why did my dad keep it from me? I know I'm a squib but isn't that discrimination?

My father was born in Canada to Japanese parents. He went to school in Japan from the time he was seven, staying with my great grandparents. I remember J.K. Rowling wrote an article about wizard schools on Pottermore, and one of them was in Japan. If Hogwarts is real maybe what's-its-face is real too?

After my bath I put on my robe and look at the orientation package. It's a blank pad of paper plus a complimentary pen- not a quill. I knew those were just for show! I draw some swirls on a corner of the paper to test the ink. It's purple, how cute. To my surprise the swirl sinks into the page and a message appears. It reminds me of Tom Riddle's diary. Though tbh can you really picture Voldemort writing in a diary? _Dear diary, today here are my murder plans._ Anyway, the page said she couldn't read my writing. Yes, it's a she now. I've named her Siri. I write below _Is Harry Potter real?_ A newspaper article fills the remainder of the page.

 _Where is he now?_

 _The Boy Who Lived currently resides in London with his wife and three children…_ blah blah blah _... attended Hogwarts…_ so that's real, good to know _... works as an Auror…_ I scan the article, it's nothing you couldn't find on Pottermore. I flip the page and write on the back.

 _Who was Akira Watanabe?_

An image of my father fills the upper left corner and a short article appeared.

 _Akira Watanabe was best known as the producer of a muggle-friendly adaptation of Rita Skeeter's story of Harry Potter. A gold-caped graduate of Mahoutokoro School of Magic, Watanabe is succeeded by his one daughter._

It was an obituary, I realise. I cry a little and start to make a tea. I get as far as the much and the tea leaves, but the building doesn't have electricity. So I abandon that plan and go to bed.

The next day I find the library. It is on the second floor. I run a little research with Siri based off what Joon taught me yesterday. I search for any threats against J.K. Rowling and get no hits. Orlando theme park? Nothing. Canadian animation team? The death of my father, deemed unsuspicious. But wait, an animator was mugged and left injured. And an artist's home burnt down, killing her partner. That explains the caution around next of kin. I check the international news again. Nothing. Maybe other governments did better cover ups? Or maybe this was a Canadian problem.

I swing around in my chair and come face to belly with David. I stand promptly. We are now face to chest. I take a step back.

"Hi," I say, and fold my arms. I'm angry with him for deceiving me but despite myself I am comforted by the familiar face.

"Sakura! I was hoping to run into you. How are you feeling?"

"What happened yesterday? Who are you?"

"I'm David, David Thompson. Yesterday we went on a date but got ambushed by the gang that killed your father. They bound you but I managed to apparate us away before they could take you. Now you're in protection."

"Why does the gang care about my father and I?" I don't mention the other two production staff members.

"They have a grudge against wizards threatening the exposure of magic," he says smoothly. "Your father's picture-show must have qualified as a threat. Though it's a bit redundant at this point considering the widespread popularity… I'm so sorry I'm being insensitive, please excuse me."

I cock my head. It's not his fault murderers are batshit crazy. He clears his throat.

"So how are you settling in?"

I tell him about my new apartment and my enchanted cupboards and lack of electricity. I tell him about my mousse moose and he laughs.

"Those have been around forever! I remember when I was a kid my dad enchanted one so it would walk around. It escaped and he got fined but it was worth it."

It's my turn to laugh. Hearing stories from an actual person about magical memories is just too much. We chat for a few more minutes before he excuses himself.

When I get back to my room I look up David Thompson. Siri doesn't have any results.


End file.
